


like hard candy between my teeth

by kuro49



Series: jason rare pair challenge [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bottom Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 18:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19447582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: With her own brand of crazy and a knight in pitch black Kevlar armour, Gotham has always been special. If asked, Slade has never found her worth any of the trouble. And this is trouble if he's ever seen it.Or, Sladefucksmeets the new Robin.





	like hard candy between my teeth

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[Fanart] Sladejay（1P）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19664170) by [Sen_2324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sen_2324/pseuds/Sen_2324). 



> ^^^check that asdfghjk-worthy fanart out, sen_2324 is a master :'DDD
> 
> i've never really done slade's pov but dirty old man wilson was a lot of fun to write.

With her own special brand of crazy and a knight in pitch black Kevlar armour, Gotham has always been something else. If asked, Slade has never found her worth any of the trouble.

And this is trouble if he's ever seen it.

The new Robin is truly a menace, rough around the edges and sprouting off the most filthy of curses that calls out your mother then your father and going up the family tree from there in that heavy Gotham lilt. He is biting off syllables like they can fill up his belly and it is almost a lost art the way he cocks his head, bares his throat and flirts right back with the deadliest mercenary if the kid's ever met one.

Slade doubts he has, not when the Bat keeps such a short leash on this one, probably for a damn good reason when he looks the part of jail bait even better than the first one did.

And Slade would know.

This Robin is not nearly as freakishly flexible as Grayson but he can still be folded almost neatly into two, knees pushing up to touch his chest, head tipping all the way back to catch a kiss. But this kid is also downright dangerous when he is armed with the kind of soft little mewling noises that is currently coming out from between the part of that mouth, all shiny with spit and bright red from the rough drag of Slade's beard with every brush of lips he seeks.

If anyone bothers asking, Slade would just like to say that he didn't start it.

(He didn't stop it but it's not like anyone is asking that either.)

The boy beneath him lets out on a sigh, "...'stroke." Robin says, sounding near gone.

"You callin' my name or you're asking for something, lil' bird?"

Slade teases at the way his sigh builds into a pant, almost openly now. Sounding that much more filthy when each quick puff of air falls like a litany of prayers in the narrow space between them. _Please_ , he doesn't say. _Please_ , Slade's going to get him saying.

"B-both," Robin's voice hitches on the sweetest note just as Slade hits the spot that would have the boy's knees giving out completely if Slade hasn't been holding him up since the start.

They are hidden in a corner of a decrepit building in between sales of ownership, Robin partly on a ledge with Slade between his spread thighs. The building around them is halfway to being torn down to the foundation, and it would be too if sufficient funding could be secured. There are plenty of buildings like these here in the worst bits of Gotham. Left in a limbo and hollowed out for the city to fill with that special touch of hers.

All of it amounts to Slade being as much of a dirty old man as he feels like one. 

It is the dirt on the ground, the sweat sliding down his temple. The worst of it might be the Robin uniform and how it sits, almost in its entirety on Batman's sidekick still. The only thing gone is Robin's domino mask to show off the moisture clinging to those dark thick lashes like dew and the only thing out of place is the pair of scaly green shorts dragged off to hang precariously from an ankle. 

"And what do you say?" Slade grunts out.

Ticking off every last box that puts him firmly into the category of a full fledged predator when the boy barely has the strength to keep his eyes open as he answers on a breathy broken whine. "Please...?" He says, just as Slade wants.

But Slade is hardly that gullible either.

Robin is not begging, not when Slade can catch that telling glint of in those half-lidded eyes. The kid is hardly asking even if it is framed as a question. Robin knows that he has Slade, has known this since the moment Slade took his mask off in return for that slow strip tease of just a simple domino mask being peeled back. It is not a show of hand to say that Robin trusts him, it is the kid knowing full well Slade has no idea who he really is even if he bares his entire face to him.

And Slade has to wonder how Batman turns this kid down when asked for anything at all because there is tempting, and then there is temptation. This kid might as well be the personification of that.

It is hypnotizing to watch the fit of his erection, sliding all the way in until Slade is bottoming out inside of the boy. His rim glistens with slick as Slade pulls out barely halfway before slamming home once more. He has no idea if Robin notices at all but his body clenches down reflexively with every pass Slade makes over that same spot deep inside of him. And Slade is relentless with it. The sloppy wet sounds each time he works his cock in then out then all over again are made all the more prominent when guided by the squelch of the batbrand lube the kid hands him from a pouch on his bright yellow belt at the start.

"You got it in one, kid." Slade praises him, his mouth curling into the most wicked thing and it is matched with one curving almost just the same across the kid's kiss-bruised lips.

Slade's eye glances to the mess of black curls soaked in sweat before looking further down to find the bob of Robin's cock, bright red and dripping precum at the tip. It is easy to comply when the request comes so pretty, all breathy and phrased so close to a plea. Slade wraps a hand around the little bird's erection, his palm big enough to envelop the kid's cock even with it at its hardest.

It is near pornographic when Robin starts moaning in earnest with every thrust, kept in pace to the way Slade jerks him off.

On those noises alone, Slade comes close to the edge enough times. The moans breaking down on vulgar curses, swear words falling away into sobs.

If anyone is to interrupt now, Slade is perfectly willing to go away in cuffs because it doesn't just look bad, it is incriminating when he's got the kid sobbing openly on his cock. Tears rolling down those freckled cheeks, his spine arching off from the wall in one sharp tense line, the much softer skin on the inside of those thighs slick in sweat and bruising like a flushed masterpiece beneath the death grip Slade has on them.

"S- _slade_ ," Robin says on another moan, cloying like honey with how throaty he makes it.

And well, that answers that. 

Not that Slade was really wondering at all but it's nice to get the confirmation that the kid isn't just a very good fuck. The kid is still Batman's sidekick through and through.

When Robin comes, Slade almost follows with him.

The kid is dragging his nails into Slade, hard enough for him to actually feel it even through the last layer of body armour he still has on when he is finally spilling white over Slade's fist. His mouth parting on an _oh_ , the sound coming out so sweetly while his lashes beat in double time. Slade doesn't relent, fucking Robin right through his orgasm with him pulsing around him like a vice.

The kid makes a mess all over Slade's hand, and it'd be a shame if Slade isn't bringing it up to that mouth to watch the way Robin blinks his eyes open, the expression on his face still one of fucked out bliss before he is following the instruction that doesn't need to be said out loud. He flickers the tip of his tongue over Slade's fingers with tiny kitten licks, cleaning the taste of himself from Slade. He is pliant with exhaustion in a way he isn't before, his legs falling further apart to give Slade that last inch of space to get closer as he chases down his own climax.

Slade is shameless and the kid is almost just as bad when he is raising his hips, meeting him halfway. The pace brutal and near desperate. The kid's body runs hot, burning like a hazy fever dream as Slade holds him just like this when he finally comes.

Inside of the boy, and pushing in even further until the head of his cock is slamming right up against the deepest part before he is filling him up to the hilt. 

Slade groans and the little Robin goes as far as to lift his head up to catch the tail end of that sound on the brush of his lips on a barely aligned kiss. Just when Slade didn't think the kid can get any sweeter, he is tasting like hard candy on his tongue. 

"Your boss isn't worried where his little birdie gone off to?" Slade rumbles as he pulls out, dragging another lovely noise out of the kid when a rush of semen comes spilling out.

"He's the world's best damn detective, I'm sure he can find me if he really wants me." Robin tells him, and he holds himself almost nonchalant with that statement when he can't look Slade in the eye, seeming far more distracted by wiping up the mess between his legs. "I'm not so sure he does."

The kid hops off the ledge, the edge of it a little wet with lube and a whole lot filthy with cum. Slade doesn't back off but he does step back to tuck himself into his pants. Taking another step to watch Robin drag those signature green panties back up from where they pool at his ankles to have them hugging the perky swell of that ass once more.

And it is deliberate on every account when Robin bends over to fix the pixie boots like he hasn't been folded in half for the better part of an hour as Slade fucked him.

It gets Slade groaning in something a lot like defeat when he can hear the pout in the way the kid talks about how daddybats doesn't love him enough.

Slade settles for something like pity. "How about this, kid? If he doesn't want you, I'll keep you."

The Robin grins, and it's a wicked little thing when it accompanies a statement like this. "You couldn't keep me if you tried."

Slade is a challenger and he likes the one he sees here. "And he can?"

"If B can," his grin does not subside, not when he bends down yet again to pick up Slade's Deathstroke mask from the ground and offers it to him, "do you really think I'd be here doing what we just did?"

A cock to his head, his cheeks still flushed pink.

Slade chuckles, taking it from him. Tipping his chin down to watch the Robin bringing his own domino mask up to his face. It's easy for Slade to pick up all the differences between this kid and the first bird to fly in these same colours when he's had a chance to meet this little birdie up close and personal.

"Maybe your old man was enjoying the show." Slade points out, reaching out to straighten out the mask hiding those eyes. Swiping a gloved thumb across his cheekbone, then dipping lower to drag it over the swell of that clever mouth for good measures. "Can't blame him for having good taste."

The kid's full-bellied laugh is trouble too.

Because it gets Slade's own to follow. Looking past the kid to find a shadow in the dark, and Slade's laughter only sharpens, enough for him to bare his teeth into it.

With what he knows now, Gotham might just be worth the trouble again.


End file.
